


Tempted to Sin

by Doxx



Category: Shall We Date?: Obey Me!
Genre: Gender-Neutral Main Character (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!), No Incest, Other, Rope Bondage, Sexual Content, Stuffing, Whipping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-25
Updated: 2020-06-30
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:20:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 11,910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24902971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Doxx/pseuds/Doxx
Summary: Each of the demon avatars like to inspire their particular sin in humans. Each chapter here is a stand-alone story of what happens when a gender-neutral MC currently residing in the house of lamentation gets tempted.... with a final chapter to pull everything together at the end.No penetrative sex, but lots of sexual contact, bad language, foreplay, whipping and insinuations.
Comments: 26
Kudos: 385





	1. Wrath

Wrath

“... Stuck-up, stupid, pretentious, prissy, --” Half-way through a _good_ cathartic rant through the alphabet you stop, just before you can get to some really choice words, when you realise the common room was not as empty as you'd first thought. 

Curled up in a corner, Satan lowers his book, and raises a brow in your direction.

“Lucifer!” you hiss, with the sort of vitriol you'd usually reserve for running out of real chocolate not made with serpent snot or whatever else they use down here. “I have just been 'treated' to a hour of him going on and on about being out after curfew, when I was apparently ever-so lucky a demonic ner'do'well didn't try to suck my soul out my ear or some other nonsense!”

“You can't suck a soul out through the ear... and you were out alone?” Satan's mouth twists, as if he has swallowed something unpleasant, “... I hate to say this.... I really hate to say this, but maybe Lucifer was right. Demons can be, well... not that nice.....”

You throw your hands in the air, and suppress a scream. “I know! You've all told me over and over how very small and weak I am, and I _get_ it. I had Mammon, Asmo _and_ Solomon, all acting as entourage. I am just thankful I get to use the bathroom in peace, though damn it, I've had to fight for even that small moment of privacy!!”

You pace, riled up and unable to sit down. Satan watches your footsteps with growing interest.

“I was all set to be back on time too, but when Mannon saw something new in a shop window and had to divert to check its price, and then Asmo started chatting up the sales clerk, well... by the time we'd got Solomon safely back to his lodgings, it was late. A whole half hour late. Which wouldn't have happened if I didn't have to have escorts everywhere I go! Sodding hell, his lecture took longer than the time I missed curfew by!”

Satan might have been about to say something, but you hold up a hand, cutting him off, “Nope! I am too fucking upset right now, I need a cup of tea... or maybe something stronger if there is anything decent to drink!”

You stomp down to the kitchen, the stove emitting a low red glow across the counter tops and central table. 

Surprisingly, at your back is Satan. Apparently your frustrated ranting is more entertaining than whatever book he was reading. You give him a look, just challenging him to mock your current mood.

He holds out his hands, palms up. “You seem like you might like to vent a bit more... but I can go if you'd rather be on your own.”

“Fine! Stay then!” 

Too incensed to thank Satan for his thoughtfulness, you clatter about, seeking first a teapot, then something that seemed like it might help you relax. When all you can find are tea pouches with names like 'fairies blood' and 'dragon tears' and with no idea if these are literal or not, you give up on tea and go about seeing if there is anything alcoholic to be found.

Satan is looking at you, not quite smiling, intrigued. He scans across the shelves, moves back what looks like an ancient jar of onions (or eyeballs) and pulls out a bottle of wine. He uses a claw to peel the foil, and pluck the cork out with satisfying pop, and offers it to you.

You grab the bottle from his hands, and take a long drink. 

You don't normally behave like this; you normally have much better control of your temper, but after a week of studying, two mock exams, one minor run in with a lust demon who just would not take no for an answer, and a final dressing down by the first born himself, as if he had nothing better to do than make you feel about two feet tall, you were done with caring.

“My elder brother can be somewhat over-bearing...” Satan's tone is sympathetic, but not pacifying. Just as well, you think you'd react badly to any attempts to be told to 'just calm down' right now.

“Over-bearing!? His micromanagement of my life makes me feel like a Sim character!”

“I don't know what that means....” Satan admits, and you can see he does not like to have a gap in his knowledge.

“Levi would get it...” you respond, then, after taking another swig, “Does he _ever_ take that stick out his ass? Most be exhausting, being that much of an arrogant bastard.”

Satan chuckles, and leans in a bit closer. 

“I do not think I had ever see you so irked...”

“Oh believe me, I am well beyond irked....”

“...angry then.” There is a strange reverence in his voice.

You nod in agreement. “Well, apparently today I had one last nerve, and Lucifer damned well snapped it.”

Something lights up in Satan's eyes, and he goes over to a crockery cupboard and fetches out a glass. It is an ornate crystal wineglass, and he hands it to you with a growing grin.

“What? You think I'm not being 'proper' enough... Sounds like something _he'd_ say....” You scowl, and take another drink straight from the bottle to make your point. 

He shakes his head. “No.... This particular one is _his_ favourite...”

You stare in surprise. Normally, you'd be loathe to be so petty, but you are properly ticked off, and the idea has a lot of appeal. Satan is bathed in an aura of eager anticipation, which urges you on.

You take up the glass, and then, with all your strength and fury, throw it against the far wall, where it smashes beautifully into tiny crystalline shards.

You breathe, and it feels like you can finally draw breath again. You are about to turn to Satan and thank him, the violent outlet being exactly what you needed, when there are strong hands round your jaw and soft lips against yours.

The wine bottle nearly drops from your hands in surprise, but Satan catches it and sets it by the counter, drawing back just a little, his green eyes darkening. “I could not resist... You look amazing when enraged.....”

You pull him back for another kiss, rougher, your hand bunched in his hair, your blood pounding hard within your veins.

Satan did not learn to kiss from his books, that much you are sure. The words would surely burn the page with how heated he becomes, as lips suck against yours, and then teeth, and then giving and taking and giving again, like steps in a chess game. It _feels_ competitive, and it is exhilarating not to be treated as some weakling human, when you match him lick for lick, bite for bite. He tastes like barely contained fury, and it is glorious.

Finally, when you are getting dizzying from lack of air, you break away. He looks at you, enraptured, and his lips curl into something wicked.

“Do you know what would _really_ infuriate him...?”

You cock your head, suddenly very interested.

“Despite Lucifer's disastrous attempts to attract your attention, he _has_ had his eye on you. If _I_ however, were to take you to bed... He would be absolutely livid....”

“At you or at me?”

Satan just smiles. 

You knew both of you would be in for it come the next morning when Lucifer found out, but if that kiss was anything to go by, it would be worth it!


	2. Gluttony

You have learnt by now, that turning up late to the dinning room meant two things. One, there would be only be a seat next to Beelzebub left (two if Belphephor had not roused from sleeping), and two, you had to act fast if you wanted to get enough to eat.

You had intended to be on time for dinner, but there had been a question in your homework that had taken a bit more working out and cross referencing (because frankly, you did not know off the top of your head the weight of a soul, never mind the conversation rates), and as such you were delayed.

Unapologetically, you enter in and give the demon brothers a short nod. You slide down next to Beel, who gives you a warn smile, before returning to to his plate.

You see that already there is a crater-like sparsity in the platters around him, and hastily gather up what you can reach. 

During your stay, you have gotten used to the strange unidentifiable foodstuffs, and to your surprise found that despite names like deep-fried bat wings and newt burgers, most of the fare in Devildom is quite palatable. In fact, _not_ knowing the names of what you were eating in most cases helped your appetite.

Asmo, with a wink, passes over something to you, smoothly dipping it away from Beel's immediate grasp.  
“I made these ones! You should try some!”  
You nod, and tip three of the breaded nuggets onto your plate, then, considering where you are seated, tip another three on. 

You don't really mind that Beel seems to regard everything within range fair game for him to eat, and you can't even get cross when he helps himself from your plate, not when he seems to really enjoy his food. His contented smile and happy munching noises are appreciative in a way you find rather sweet.

As a result though, you have learnt to pile your plate high, so that there is spare for Beel and his voracious appetite. 

The breaded nugget things (you try not to think too much about what they could be) _are_ good, and you crunch through them, and then take an extra two, to Asmo's delight.

There is light conversation around you, Satan trying to convince Mammon that just because a book is older and worth more, he is not going to 'upgrade' his library to a digital format and let him sell the physical copies to make a profit, and Lucifer chastising Asmo for speculating about the colour of lord Divalo's underwear... again. The twins are quiet, but that is not unusual; Beelzebub usually too intent on his food, and Belphegor half-way asleep at the table.

The plates are starting to clear, and you spot a bowl of what you have come to think of as a cross between a dumpling and a sponge cake that has a gooey custard-like filling you are particularly partial to. To your surprise, it seems to have gone unnoticed. You merrily pull it towards you, intending to have some for dessert.

Lucifer finishes first, and excuses himself to get back to work. Satan and Asmo follow afterwards, Mammon trailing after still trying to persuade Satan of his latest master plan. Levi has a game he wants to get back to, and gives Belphie a good-natured prod as he passes to rouse him from his doze.

With a yawn, Belphie casts his eye to your plate. Once satisfied that you will not starve, he declares he is going for a nap and heads off as well, leaving just you and Beel. 

You are aware, now that the room is quieter, that Beel is not making any noises. You frown, and see him staring at you. Not your plate, but you.

“Everything all right?” you ask.

“Hmm.” he replies, and pulls a basket of bread buns over. He picks one up, and puts it on your plate.

You look down, see that the usual dent that Beel makes in your portion still remains. You are starting to feel full but there is still plenty on your plate, and you certainly do not need extra!

“Beel, don't you want some too?” You have no hope of finishing your plate if Beel doesn't help out, and you hate to waste food.

Purple hued eyes do not leave yours, as Beel makes a thoughtful sound, “I'm good for the moment.”

You wonder if Beel feels sick, but he seems hale and hearty, if a little more contemplative than you are used to.

You shrug, figuring maybe he has finally had his fill, and turn back to your plate.

You manage a little more, before you lay down your fork. Beel has not touched your plate, which means there is still lots left over. You make a soft huff, and pat your abdomen. 

“Guess my eyes were bigger than my stomach today... but we can wrap it up and put it in the fridge for tomorrow.”

There a pause, as Beel picks up his own fork, and moves towards your plate. You happily push it towards him, grateful that he will take his usual portion.

He spears a nugget, and then extends it towards your face. You must have looked surprised, but he speaks in a low voice, “They are best fresh. And Asmo would be sad if he thought you didn't like them...”

You try to wave it away, but his expression is oddly serious. You sigh in acceptance, and bite down carefully over the nugget, honestly more surprised he offered it to you rather than eat it himself than that he is feeding you.

Chewing, you nod, to allay his fears that his siblings will be offended. Too late you realise that Beel has taken your nod as signal that you want more.

Another forkful, this time sticky rice, crowned with caramelised onions and glazed shredded meat (don't ask, never ask!).

“Beel!” you protest, forcing a laugh to hide your growing concern at this out-of-character behaviour.

“This is tasty. You'll like it.”

You manage this time to catch his wrist with your hand, holding the fork back. 

“Wait up, this isn't like you. What's going on....?”

Beel dips his head, “Belphie told me off this morning. Told me I was taking too much of your food. I'm trying to make it up to you... you've let me take so much from your plate....”

You relax almost immediately. A simple answer, and sincere, and full of good-will. Encompassing everything you like about Beelzebub. 

You lean forwards and make a show of enjoying the forkful, but by the way Beel's face lights up you'd have thought it was he who had had the mouthful.

You let him chose his favourite pieces, and push them towards you. You eat, and savour the food, and smile. Even though he is moving a little too fast, filling your mouth too soon after each bite, you cannot help but enjoy what the Devildom has to offer, as collated by an expert.

Rather than a systematic foray round the table, Beel seems to be picking out which flavours will match the next, dipping into all that is left, for you.

It is touching, the care he takes in balancing spice and salt, texture and consistency, so that every bite compliments the last, and the next to come.

You eat, and though you are not sure you want to know what it is you are eating Beel knows better than to inform you. 

It is good, and you have to readjust in your seat, as the mouthfuls keep coming. 

Eventually, finally, you have to put a hand up and stop the fork to your mouth, groaning full and heavy. Past the point of comfort, you have to shift your body to make room for your stomach. 

“Beel, that's enough. If I let you keep going I'll burst!”

You are aware of Beel's eyes on you, sliding downwards past your chest to your gut, now more prominent that it was when you started. They seem to glow, amethyst bright, and you are suddenly aware that through feeding you, Beelzebub has pulled his chair closer.

Slowly, he extends a hand towards you, fingers outstretched. You feel him lightly brush against your chest, and then down over your rounded stomach. His expression is intense but his touch is gentle, almost reverent. It is nice, soothing and warm.

“You're all full up....”

Your cheeks heat, embarrassed.

“I like it.” his fingertips flatten out as he presses his hand against you, and the touch across the curve of your belly becomes a caress. “Knowing you've had your fill, that you're not hungry...”

He bites his lower lip, and brings his eyes up to meet yours. “Do you think you could manage just a little more? For me?”

Beel could have asked anything of you in that moment, with his gaze so fond and his voice tinged with a need normally reserved for when he has run out of snacks before the first lesson has even finished. 

You nod, and he beams happily. 

You are basking in his warm smile, when you see he has spotted the bowl of dumpling dessert. He drags his chair closer, so that your knees are touching against his.

Beelzebub does not bother with a fork this time, but scoops up a dumpling in his fingers and cups his other hand under the spongy treat to protect your clothes from drips. 

Beel offers it to you, and you open your mouth. The dumpling is soft, but large. Your jaw cannot close over it, and you worry about letting the filling escape, so you bite and then suck to avoid making a mess. Swallowing, and then taking a little more, your lips brush against Beel's fingertips, and you glance towards him.

His eyes are dark, and he is looking at you like you were the last chocolate in a tray. You finish the dumpling, and give him a nervous grin.

“That was tasty. But now really, I'm done. No more.”

He looks you over, “Stuffed full.....” his voice is softer, and he leans in, “its a good look on you.... you look,” he licks his lips, “Good enough to eat......”

By this point, you are used to the strange things demons say. They chat about claiming souls in the same manner one might have a stamp collection, and the threat of having your face ripped off lost its edge after the eighteenth time, for no more a slight than knocking against a lower demon in the corridor. 

Mostly, you've learnt there is little actual danger when dealing with demons. You are cautious, sure, (you're not a complete idiot), but rarely do you ever feel at real risk.

However, this is the first time Beel has looked at you with raw hunger in his eyes, and said words that made you question your place in the food chain. 

His hand at your belly is pressing down, feeling the firmness of your filled stomach, and you feel trapped between the chair and the demon.

“...Beel?” you manage to squeak out, and Beel immediately catches himself, drawing back again. 

He at least looks a little ashamed, like a kid with his hand caught in the cookie jar. He blushes, and dips his head.

“Sorry... but you just look too delicious.... and I am so famished....”

As if to emphasise the point, a low rumble reverberates through the dinning room. 

You reach out, and cup his cheek in a hand, unable to stay scared for long. Not when being called tasty or delicious feels like the highest form of compliment from the avatar of gluttony, and not when Beel looks so genuinely worried he might have upset you. 

“It's fine Beel. And besides, there is no need for you to go hungry. Happily, we have a whole table of food to help with that!” you reach now, to the dumpling bowl and select the plumpest one. You proffer it to Beel, and within seconds your hand is empty, Beel slurping the morsel down and then looking to you for more. 

Its not sexual, not really, but the sounds Beel makes as he eats from your hand, and the way he drags his tongue across your finger to lap up every trace of taste definitely sets your heart beating just a little faster. You get the impression that for Beel, this might be just as intimate as sex, if not more so. 

He also looks to you with open adoration, and even though you started out trying to state his hunger as a survival tactic, soon you come to enjoy the task. 

Beel radiates gratitude with every bite, and by the time he starts to slow, the table is mostly cleared of all leftovers. There are some bread rolls left, and that is about it. 

By the time you bring the last forkful of food up to his lips, you both have been yawning, warm and contented and ready to curl up and sleep. 

“Hmmmmmmmmm. That was a good meal.”

You nod, agreeing, and lean forwards for a hug. Beel's strong arms wrap round you, and you feel safe and protected.

Then, suddenly, you are no longer in your chair, but lifted up and held against Beel's chest, your feet dangling.

“Come on. Let go find Belphie and sleep off all this food.”

You agree, the idea sounding like perfection. As you are lowered down to the ground, and start to make your way towards the door, you turn and see that Beel is stuffing the remaining bread rolls into his pockets. 

“In case we want a midnight snack!”

You chuckle all the way to Belphie and Beel's shared room, feeling full and warm and happy.


	3. Lust

Asmo makes no secret of the fact he would happily welcome you to his bed.

He taunts you via text, and makes suggestions during supper (which makes Mammon fluster and Lucifer tsk). While he seems willing to flirt with anyone, you've noticed that his lack of respect for personal space seems particularly acute when you have a supposed stray hair that needs tucked back into place, or a piece of practically invisible fluff on your clothing that ought to be removed. 

His touch is gentle, and lingers in your mind, long afterwards.

You don't mind, not really (once you have managed to stop blushing quite so furiously every time he comes too close). Asmodeus is fun to be around, and his openness about sex and hooking up has certainly granted you confidence to pursue some of his brothers as romantic interests.

It turns out, that demons have a very open-minded approach to partnerships. As far as the brothers are concerned, as long as their kin are happy they are supportive in you pursuing whoever you like, no matter how awkward and complex it becomes to try and explain your current mishmash of relationships. The notion of trying to use a pinboard with photos and string to denote the various connections you have made has crossed your mind more than once. You might not have the words to express it, but you have never been happier, nor felt more loved.

Yet, for all his outrageous flirting, Asmo has yet to make further move in your direction. You wish he would, imagining how sweet his kisses would be, how passionate his love-making. 

These are the thoughts that keep you up at night. 

Tonight though, warm and wanting and fed up of waiting, you make your way to Asmo's room, and knock.

“Come in~” 

You enter in, to find the room brightly lit and Asmo sitting on his bed, needle and thread in hand and apparently making an adjustment to a pastel shirt... which he is not wearing. He must be making measurements as he goes, and his bare chest is surprisingly to see. 

He grins, and preens a little under your gaze.

“I thought the cut could be more flattering, seldom do things off the rack look right, even on me!” he explains as he carefully puts it aside, and swings his legs over the edge of the bed. “But it can wait. To what do I owe the unexpected yet undoubtedly delightful pleasure of your company?”

You _practised_ what you would say, you damn well had a plan, but on seeing his amber eyes and bare chest, your words abandon you.

Asmo saunters over, relaxed. He is stunningly attractive, and knows it. You'd be surprised if he did not rehearse in front of a mirror to learn the best angles of his body, and how to catch the light just right.... 

“Hmmm... or maybe I should try to guess why you're here?” Asmo leans in, and runs a finger round your collar. “Perhaps you would like me to adjust _your_ shirt, so it accentuates your figure better? I could show off your best features, make it so you could catch the eye of anyone you fancied!”

You blush, and turn to duck your head, only to have your chin caught under a gentle hand and coaxed back up.

“Wouldn't take much you know. You are something special, and anyone, be them human or angel or demon, could easily be yours... You are entirely too tempting....”

You bring a hand up to cover his, his skin soft and warm, “I thought tempting others was your game?”

“True, but by now you must have figured me for a player too!”

You laugh together, then watch as Asmo brings his lips closer to your ear, his voice dipping low, “So my dear... wanna play with me?”

There is no denying the rush of blood to your cheeks at his words, and you struggle to find an appropriate answer. Before you can formulate reply, he leans in and takes a deep inhale, “I can scent it on you you know; your want, your desire... it calls to me, like a siren song.”  
“It makes me want to do such naughty and wicked things with you... to you....”

Your knees go weak at that, and you sag slightly, leaning into Asmo's hand and words.

“Shall I have my wicked way with you, my sweet?”

You find your voice, finally, “Please!”

Asmo's eyes gleam, delighting in the raw honesty of your response. He continues to whisper into your ear.

“Fair warning, do not mistake me for a romantic, when you know too well I am lust personified. I will take you to bed, but you'll get no sleep... but I think that is _exactly_ why you came to my room at such a late hour.”

You nod enthusiastically, and lean in to kiss him.

You imagined (in all honesty, spent just a little too much time imagining) Asmo's kisses to be decadent and lascivious, like chocolate. Something to consume all your senses, his skilled hands roaming over your body, finding all the spots that bring your skin out in goosebumps.

The chaste peck on your cheek surprises you. 

You pull back, confused. Asmo laughs, not unkindly, “My dear! When has lust ever been fanned by getting what you want right away?”

“And what _I_ want is you twisting and writhing, and desperate to be sated. I want you half out of your mind with lust, a fire stoked within I have no intention to quench till you can hardly stand it anymore. Delicious and delirious, and delightfully honest in your desire....”   
“So my dear, come to bed with me...”

You follow him, entranced and enticed by the promises of a night to remember. 

He turns, and pulls something from beneath his bed. It is rope, dyed a bright pink and coiled in Asmo's hands. He tugs one end, pulling the length taunt, and checks for your permission before binding you, wrists together and above your head, attached to the head of the bed through steel hoops embedded into the bedframe that you had not noticed before now.

Your legs he spreads, leaving you feeling exposed even though you are still clothed, and binds your ankles. The knots are not tight against your skin, but hold firm when you give them an experimental tug. 

You are not going anywhere.

Asmo stands back, admiring your body laid out across his bed like a sacrifice on an altar. You feel his eyes, his gaze intense, as he looks you over. He licks his lips, and you have never felt more attractive, your confidence bolstered by his obvious interest. 

He comes up, gracefully sliding to your side and then, with just a single polished fingernail, runs it down your cheek. 

The touch feels electric, simple yet effective, and you find your heart-rate pick up, eager for more.

A second caress does not come, and you twist, trying to chase the sensation, frowning that Asmo seems so reluctant to touch you. 

“My sweet, Your enthusiasm is charming, but you are too good to rush.” he laughs, and his hair falls over one eye, “I plan to take my time with you.....”

So it goes, the slightest of touches against your collarbone, over the clothes, or a brush of a hand against your cheek, or tracing the curve of your eyebrow. He cards his hands through your hair, but pulls away the moment you lean towards him, inciting you to whine with impatience.

Yet Asmo is unhurried, teasing you with gentle hands. He has yet to touch you anywhere intimate either, and you remain fully clothed, and you crave the feel of his fingers against your actual skin. 

You huff, which only makes his face light up with mischief.

“You seek more? Well then my lovely, tell me what you'd do, if your hands were not held done by rope and knots.”

You smirk, “Well, I'd have kissed you already.”

He moves then, and straddles your hips and holds his head above yours. “You want to kiss me? I assure you my lips as just as soft as they look....”

You strain forwards, but cannot reach, the angle of your position and the own strength it takes to lift your head upwards too much, and you fall short of Asmo's lips. He chuckles.

“Come on sweetness, show me how much you want me....”

You struggle against gravity, writhing under his hips, yet your goal eludes you. You slump back down, defeated and all the more desperate to feel Asmo's fingers, mouth, hands on you. Anything!

Asmo is not unaffected, you can feel the heat between his legs, and see the outline grow firmer as he continues to hover over your head, his hair falling across his face, his eyes honey-coloured eyes darkening as his pupils eclipse his irises.

He basks in your growing arousal, like a cat in a sunbeam. You start to wonder if he ever plans to do more than tease you. 

Wrists bound and ankles tied, you are trapped against the softness of the bed. It is not softness you crave. You arch, undulate, everything in your power to entice Asmo to touch you further.

He does not, but his eyes, practically glowing, rake over your exposed body. He makes a sound of approval, yet maddeningly does not touch.

With a hand to his own mouth, he looks down upon you, and nibbles on the tip of a finger, watching how your chest heaves, and eyes focus on him and him only. Horns starts to emerge from the crown of his head, and you hear rather than see the leathery sound of wings unfurling. 

“Ooh, is it me, or did it just get _hot_ in here... Perhaps I ought to divest you of your clothes, hmm?”

You nod frantically.

Instead, he starts to flap his wings, causing air to flow across your body. It is cooling, and fans the flames of your desire, all at once, and you twist under his weight, tossing and turning and feeling impossibly turned on.

He is enjoying this, clearly, and you shake your arms and legs, unable to get free and having to submit to the pace he has set. 

When he runs a clawed fingertip under your shirt, skin against skin, you surge up to meet it, and it feels both like the most scandalous touch and not even in the least bit enough.

You thrash.

You beg.

You strain against your bondage.

You wish he would rip the clothes from your body.

You plead.

You lose track of time.

It could have been minutes, maybe hours, maybe even days, but all you know is that your skin is sheened with sweat, and you want so much you have lost the words to express yourself. 

You look to Asmo, your blood pounding in your veins, your head filled with nothing but the thought of him. 

He looks back at you, as if you were the most precious being he has ever encountered. He gasps out, and you scent in the air that he has ejaculated. Untouched, at the sight of you in throes of wild lusty abandon.

Your own hips shudder under him, chasing your own release, and Asmo is quick to reciprocate. 

After so long being teased and tormented, your body is like a livewire, and it takes very little for you to reach completion.

However, the night is young, and Asmo is not done with you yet.....

he makes good on his promise to have you in his bed all night, and he more than makes up for his near-endless teasing. He delights in showing you first-hand his extensive skillset, and he coaxes your most private fantasies and desires from you; the air filled with sex and delightfully filthy words and plans of what you might like to try next time....

Neither of you get much sleep!


	4. Pride

This time, it _was_ entirely your fault that you'd fallen behind with your studies. 

You'd had a good week, spending an evening with Levi playing games that had so many in-jokes that Levi had given up trying to explain them all, and another with Asmo and Mammon, out at a club. Then Beel had invited you out for breakfast, which had turned into brunch then lunch as well, and on getting home, you'd been convinced by Belphie to have a nap which had consumed the most part of the day. 

Finally, intending to study and catch up, you'd met Satan in the library. Curious, you'd asked what he was reading, and veered from your course-book in favour of his text on historic curses which was far more interesting.

All this had meant that you'd not done the required reading, and had as such earned a poor grade in the most recent test.

You'd expected Lucifer would have something to say on the matter, and had been eyeing your D.D.D warily since receiving the test score, waiting for the inevitable summons. It had been days. When it eventually had chimed, it was something of a relief, and you walked grudgingly to Lucifer's room, preparing yourself for chastisement of epic proportions. 

Sure enough, Lucifer is sitting at his desk, with a stern look of disappointment. It is an uncomfortable feeling, to have him look at you so, and you deeply regret having earned his disapproval.

“I assume you know why I have called you here human?”

Oh boy, you know he's properly pissed off; he hasn't called you human in weeks. 

“Yeah, the test. I flunked it.”

He raises a brow, “Is that all you have to say for yourself?”

You shrug, “I don't deny it, and I won't offer excuses.”

His eyes remain cold, and you watch as he takes a deep breath. Drat, he is going to launch into a tirade about your behaviour... Not that you don't deserve it, but you'd rather gnaw off your own arm than stand and have to listen to Lucifer list out all your faults and failings. 

You sigh, and the gesture is not missed. 

“Oh? My words are unwelcome? Perhaps I ought to take a more direct approach to reprimanding you for such a shoddy result on the test.” The threat is light, as demon threats go, but there is a menacing undercurrent when you consider Lucifer and the power he welds.

“Perhaps you should! It'd be better than having to listen to you lecture me about responsibilities, as if the fate of the entire Devildom depended on one stupid test!” Too late, your tongue acts before you can stop yourself, and you stiffen. 

Lucifer narrows his eyes, “Careful human, I highly doubt you've thought through what you are saying...”

You are aware that your power does not compare with that of a demon, but you are not as fragile as Lucifer assumes. Maybe it is time to show him that you are stronger than he reckons.

“I can take what you want to dish out.” You proclaim, crossing your arms. Wilful and stubborn, you are sure you were not so obstinate before coming down to Devildom, but apparently some of Lucifer's traits have rubbed off on you. 

Lucifer regards you, your head high and stance assertive, and just as unlikely as him to back down at this point. 

He says nothing, rare for him, and instead walks slowly to a cupboard and opens it. From the rack within he pulls out a long black whip. He flicks his eyes to you to watch for your reaction. 

The gleaming leather coils like a snake in his hands, and you swallow hard, the situation quickly having escalated beyond what you had expected. 

You could easy call Lucifer off, it would not even need for you to rely on the pact between you, merely a word or gesture of reluctance would make him halt, but your own pride prevents you from backing down now. You set your jaw, and stand firm.

You feel the air change in the room, Lucifer's face no longer pulled taunt with disappointment. You are not entirely sure, but you could swear he looks.... excited.

“Turn and face away from me. Back straight. Place your hands behind your head, at the nape of your neck.” he speaks with authority, and you are grateful he has picked a stance that is upright, rather than subservient. You would struggle with kneeling in this mood, but standing strong you can do.

You shape your body accordingly, and see shadows move across the wall opposite. You can hear Lucifer pace backwards, then, suddenly;

CRACK

The sound startles you, enough to make you jump to your tiptoes. You scan down your body, trying to find where the whip landed. It takes an embarrassingly long moment to realise that the whip had not struck against you at all, but snap at the air.

Lucifer hums thoughtfully, and you hear the shuffle of feet. 

_He is adjusting his footing,_ you realise, _because that was a practice strike to guide his aim...._

“Remain looking forwards.” he says, then, in a softer voice, “It would not be safe for you to turn. Move from that spot to signal for a stop.”

You hear leather slide against leather gloves, as he coils the whip in his gloves, ready to begin. 

Jaw clenched, you manage a short terse nod to acknowledge you have heard him. There is a pleased sound behind you, then the crack of the whip splits the air.

You feel it half a second after hearing it, both less and more than you feared. The impact knocks you, so that your first thoughts are of regaining your balance, _then_ processing the strike. The tip lands the hardest, narrowing down to a thin line across one shoulder blade. It _burns_. You are wearing a shirt, which seems to offer some small shielding, but you still think that you will be able to see the mark, vivid against your skin.

There is a pause, and the sound of the whip being drawn back, and then another crack. The other shoulder blade, almost exactly mirroring of the first.

You feel hot, the heat of your blood drawn to the surface, and pounding fast in your veins.

You see the shadows across the wall, Lucifer's form curling as he pulls back then extends, the whip an extension of his thrust.

It hurts, there is no denying, and you have to fight with your own body to keep it still, rather than move away from the inevitable next blow. Your fingers tighten against each other, as you hear and feel the whip's next strike just under the original mark. 

You expected Lucifer would know how to wield a whip since he owned one, and you are not surprised that he is skilled with it, but you had not considered just how well his aim would translate to your skin. 

Each new strike, layered down each shoulder-blade like a fan, are painful, the nerves awakened and your skin singing with sensation. Artistry against your flesh. Its warm, and burning, and you lost count, so focused were you on standing still and not toppling forwards. 

At some point you forgot to mind yourself and started to grunt after each impact. Rather than ease up, Lucifer increases the pace, now targeting your shoulders and the tops of your arms. 

Wings.... he is marking you up in the shape of wings....

Something in that is touching, but by now your back feels as though it were on fire, and your noises have shifted to pained whines and gasps. Too much to try and think through, so you go back to what Lucifer had asked of you. 

Stand straight, hands behind your head. 

Show him how strong you could be.

You grit your teeth, and feel the whip slice through the air to connect against your body. Hard to tell the new blows from the past ones, everything painful, but you are determined to see this through to the end. 

You are not a serene figure taking everything with ease. You hiss under your breath, and have to force yourself to steady your breathing. You lose a sense of how long you have been standing, twisting and contorting after each blow, but always returning to stance. Your legs are jittery, and you stamp your foot and shift your weight from side to side to try and get them to still. The sounds from your lips range from growls to high pitched whines to crying out as your back becomes a tapestry of pain. 

Still you stand, willing yourself steady with every intake of air, with every heartbeat. Any time you could step forwards and bring this (whatever _this_ was) to an end, but you have a point to prove.

When, suddenly, finally, there is no further crack but rather a dull thud, you frown and wonder what has happened.

“May I turn?” your voice is hoarse, but you remember Lucifer's warn that turning without warning could be dangerous.

“Yes.... yes you may.” Lucifer's voice sounds less harsh, like the sharp edges of his dedication have been softened.

You turn round, lowering your hands and feeling the bite of scored skin across your upper arms. 

The whip has been cast down to the ground.

Lucifer is standing, his shirt unbuttoned at the collar, and a few stray hairs falling out of place. His face is flushed; he did not hold back on your account, and his eyes are dark and intense. He seems to be looking upon you with a new-found respect, or perhaps merely recognising that like himself, you will not easily be swayed from your decisions.

“That was... unexpected.... but somewhat informative...” he straightens himself, sweeping his hair back. He dips his head, just slightly, “I... I underestimated you.” 

The admission cost him to say out loud, you could tell, but it made it all the more precious. This, despite the sting across most of your back, was a triumph.

You break into a grin, elated at finally convincing Lucifer that humans were not as weak as he thought. The adrenaline coursing through your veins makes you feel powerful, and you look forwards to admiring the marks of your victory in the mirror later on.

“You did better than I would have expected.” he casts his eyes to your shirt, and runs a hand down your back, feeling the welts but satisfied that none had spilt the skin. “I am impressed, and proud of you taking my blows so well.”

Lucifer might have been proud of you, but it pales when compared to the fierce pride you now have blooming within yourself. You did not just prove to Lucifer your strength and will, but to yourself as well.


	5. Sloth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some spoilers for in-game chapters 15 to 18.  
> Feel free to skip this chapter of the story till you have played up till that point.

It is not late, but Belphie suggested a sleepover, and you can think there would be no better place to be than curled up in a nest of cushions with the avatar of sloth. 

Belphephor is already nestled in bed when you arrive, and turns to the side to allow you space to tuck in with him. 

You hesitate for a heartbeat.

It took time, to feel comfortable to be close to Belphephor. He'd lied and tricked you, and you'd seen your own corpse (and more than once you have had to wonder how many times Barbatos has used his powers to 'correct' an adverse event in order to keep the exchange program viable). When Belphie was released and granted permission to restart his studies, you had avoided him at first, fearing him in human form more than any of the other demons that surrounded you. Then, more for sake of his brothers, you started spending a bit more time with him, and helped him reconnect with his kin. 

Still though, you had kept your distance.

It was not easy, but in time you grew more used to him at the dinner table and classroom, and in turn he stopped ranting about how lowly and inferior humans were... as much. Years of repressed hatred were not so easily overcome, but he was at least coming round to the notion that humans were not so terrible.

It had been Beel, who had sat you both down, and told you each that you were important to him, and that he wanted to see you both get on. Then, with his stomach rumbling, had excused himself to the kitchen to fetch a snack or eight. 

Belphephor had gone very quiet, and flicked his eyes to he doorway that Beel had passed through. 

“I can feel his care for you....” he said, softly. He seemed almost jealous.

“Yeah... and he loves you too.” you responded, then, “and I trust him. If he thinks so highly of you, then maybe I ought to try and get to know you better.”

He had blushed then, “I think that I too, would like that.....”

And so, in time, you had come to regard him as fondly as his siblings. 

Which added a few more ties to the knotted string of your relationships, but you were ok with that!

Since he and Beel share a room, you spend more time in their space than their brothers, and have found that they each will turn a blind eye should things turn heated with their twin. 

Which is just as well, Beel's appetite extends beyond his stomach, and Belphie has been surprisingly tolerant of your sexual escapades. Maybe he sleeps through the moans and grunts, but you figure he _must_ have heard the more riotous noises emitting from Beel's bed in the dark of the night.

Still, you have enjoyed Belphie's 'company' as well, his slow and near-lazy style lovemaking driving you to distraction, with you eventually pulling and begging and demanding him to just please _move_.

He takes his time. 

You love it.

Demons, apparently, are rather relaxed in their views on relationships, and multiple partners are the norm, as long as all parties consent. The brothers have stated they will not interact with each other in a sexual way, but are more than happy to share.

This has certainly made your stay in the Devildom far more enjoyable!

In his bed, Belphie is still waiting. Through half-lidded eyes he smiles at your presence, as pull back the first layer of blankets, and then the second. You push past a mound of pillows and settle in snugly, tucking yourself into his arms. 

It is wonderful, and you feel yourself relaxing as the warmth and soft blankets envelope you. It is cosy, and safe, and soon you find yourself drifting....

“All good?” Belphie's sleepy voice manages to sound out through the soft snugness.

You don't even answer, but let out a long, pleased hum of contentment.

And then, you let go of your responsibilities, and sink into a happy slumber....

….

…

You stir, your body shifting forwards and back.

“You fell asleep quickly, you must be so tired....” Belphie's voice is more clear, indicating he must have been awake.

“No... just very comfy....” you slur the words, and hope you have made yourself intelligible.

“Hmmmmmm” the sound is approval and agreement, all at once. 

Then you feel your body shift forwards again, this time you are aware enough to realise it is occurring because you are being pushed, ever-so-slightly.

You feel, undeniably, a hardness at your rear.

“Belph?”

He freezes, and you can almost taste his embarrassment at being caught humping against you.

It doesn't bother you, but this sudden awkwardness is uncomfortable, and you shift to move your mouth to make your voice clear. 

“S'fine.” you manage to phrase out, and then, to reassure, “You can keep going... if you want...”

“Really? You'd let me?” there is a painful in-credulousness to his voice, that come awakeness you will want to kiss away. 

“Sure... just don't expect me to do much... gonna just lay here.”

You feel about as sexy as a sack of potatoes, but suddenly your hips are gripped and you feel Belphie thrust against you, grinding against your the curve of your ass.

It feels hazy, and warm, and you do next to nothing, but that only seems to incite Belphie further, and he ruts against you while you lounge. It is slightly strange to be so passive, but Belphie seems to be enjoying himself.

Eventually, you start to pick up that Belphephor is speaking. 

“You don't have to do anything, just lie there, all comfy and warm. So beautiful, all lax and sleepy, so good.... darling one, so good, so very lazy... Stay sleepy my dear, I adore having you like this.....”

You sigh and relax into the gentle motion against you, as you half-doze, too warm and comfortable to reciprocate. This does not seem to deter Belphie, and he grunt and jerks against you, still whispering about how much he enjoys seeing you rest, in shorter and shorter spurts till he shudders and collapses against you. It is wonderful, to be so warm and have the weight of his body against yours, and you arch into it. 

“I should go clean up...” he mutters, after he has caught his breath once more.

“Nah.. leave it till morning...” You are reluctant to let the heat of him move away, and selfishly want to stay in this warm cocoon as long as possible.

You are encompassed by a tight hug, as you hear in your ear, “If that is what you wish....”

You feel a kiss on your temple.

“Sleep well, dear one”

And you do.


	6. Greed

You are having a rare night to yourself, when your bedroom door is knocked upon.

You rattle though the options; Levi has a new game to play, and unless he needs to enlist a second player he is unlikely to be bothering you. 

Beelezbub and Belphegor tend to invite you in to their room rather than invade your personal space, and Lucifer will summon you rather than knock.

Asmo would let himself in, trying to catch you as you undress, and Satan has yet to actually come into your room. He prefers your rendezvous to be on his turf, surrounded by his books and power.

Which leaves only Mammon, and you happily swing the door open for him.

He swaggers in, and doesn't settle. By now, you are used to the way he steps about, scanning for anything new or of value.

You watch his gaze skitter about the place, evaluating everything in his vicinity for its retell price, but know even the avatar of greed has his limits. You yourself have yet to be listed on D-bay, which you take as genuine token of his friendship. 

“Just thought I'd check in on my human, see how you were getting on....” he says finally, his sweep of the room complete. Though trying to appear aloof, his tone is possessive and fond. 

You smile.

“Not too bad!”

“Good... good....” he passes by a dresser, and stops in his tracks. 

_Oh no.... has he spotted...?_

He reaches down to pull out a small shoebox, only to be knocked aside as you charge past and pull the box from his grip. He falls to the floor and spins to look at you, eyebrows high.

“Wha' in the seven planes of hell was ---”

“You can't have any!” you cut him off, and clutch the box to your chest.

His brows reach higher, and he looks truly baffled. Then, his expression starts to shift.

Though he rarely tries to curb his magpie tenancies, he has been trying more to be a little more conscientious of your feelings and possessions. It does not come naturally to him, and it seems he wrestles between his habit of trying to blag his way out of confrontation when caught, and his efforts to make you happy.

You remember how you had to tell him directly that though it a kind gesture that he went on a spending spree (funded by Lucifer's stolen bank card) to supply you with all the latest magazines so you could get up to speed with trends in the Devildom, you did not need him to buy you anything!

He seemed puzzled by the concept, even as you pointed out you did not want him to get into trouble, nor did he need to 'buy' your attentions. That friends shouldn't have to spend all their money on each other. 

It had taken weeks, before he started to believe that you would want to spend time with him, for who he was, and not what he could buy for you. 

Since then, he has relaxed in your company. He doesn't feel as much need to brag and boast, and you have lent sympathetic ear when his brothers were being particularly mean. You have even stepped in, from time to time, to mitigate some of the more fearsome disputes; Lucifer and Satan far less likely to try and string you up rather than hear you out. All free of charge (though you note that occasionally Mammon will look at you sideways, as if still expecting an itemised bill for your company to appear at any moment).

Now though, he wears a look of despair.

“Whatever I did, I'm sorry. Don't be mad at me...”

It hurts, seeing him so quick to assume he must be at fault. None of his other brothers got as much grief for their mannerisms; no-one ever berates Asmo for flirting wildly, nor Satan for losing his tempter. Lucifer's pride and the lengths he would go to to preserve it, one might argue, was a much bigger issue than a bit of petty theft. Beel even stole food on a regular basis, even if it were clearly labelled as belonging to someone else, and this was accepted as part of his personality. 

Mammon though, seemed to be constantly mocked and ridiculed, and bare the brunt of everyone's jokes. He put on a brave front, but over the time you have spent together, you have come to see that his self confidence benefits greatly from the occasional compliment, and he hoards kind words like gemstones.

You shake your head, but keep a firm grip on the box. 

“No, I overreacted. It should be me that ought to apologise.” You lay out the box between you, “It's sort of a secret. Can you keep a secret?”

Mammon perks up. 

“I will keep all your secrets!”

You open the box, slowly, just a little reluctantly, and reveal your most dear treasure.

Mammon frowns as he looks in, and scratches the back of his head, “These are... human food?”

“Chocolate,” you breathe, “human world chocolate.”

“Is it expensive?”

“No. Whole boxful come in at under £20, but its rare down here. Couldn't find it anywhere, had to ask Solomon to fetch me some. It's... it's the one thing I couldn't do without.”

Mammon remains confused, “But we have chocolate down here....”

You make a sound half-way between a snort and a laugh “It's just not the same. It tastes wrong. Both too sweet and too bitter, as if someone was trying to balance out the flavours and added too much of each and so failed. And sometimes you'll bite into a bar, and start crying, because of course you accidentally picked a bar of 'weeping woe chocolate'. Apparently it is a very popular brand!!”

“I guess....” he replies. 

You watch as he reaches for a bar, and snatch back the box.

“No! These are mine!”

Mammon stops a moment, and you wonder if you've offended him further. Then, he starts to smile. There is something strange about the expression, till you realise it is not put on in the slightest. It is wide, and shows more teeth than usual, and makes his blue and yellow eyes sparkle.

He holds out his hands to placate you. 

“Okay, okay. That is your box. I promise upon my pact that I will not touch it, and I will certainly not tell a soul about it, especially not Beel! He'll scarf the lot, so he must never know about it.”

You relax, a little, not entirely convinced he is not about to try something.

He grins, and watches you, as if he were unable to pull his eyes away. 

“....you are not keen on the idea of sharing, right?”

You hug the box defensively. “... Not really.” you admit. “It's selfish of me, I know....”

“I get that!” he beams and waves a hand, dismissing the concern, “What's wrong with looking out for yourself from time to time? You, “ he points a finger at your face, “ are normally are too generous with your time and attention, forever running after us brothers and helping us with all our troubles and problems. Why not keep something back, just for you?”  
“In fact,” he says, eyes gleaming, “ you could have some now, if you wanted to.”

All this talk of chocolate has made your mouth water, and Mammon is not wrong, you would really like to have a little piece right now. 

You nod, and pull out the bar you are working your way through, a darker bar wrapped in foil. You snap off a square, even the sound of it satisfying, and carefully bring the corner to your lips. You take a small bite, and suddenly all is right in the worlds.

Rich and bitter, it melts upon your tongue, coating it smooth. You can feel the square start to melt against your fingertips, turning soft and sticky to the touch. 

You glance sideways to see if Mammon is keeping his word to leave the chocolate stash alone. 

You needn't worry, for Mammon sits, legs crossed and good as Goldie. 

You pop the rest of the chocolate in your mouth, and it is almost all gone before you have to ask, Mammon's behaviour too much out of place to ignore. “What's your game?”

He grins, and leans forwards, his hands up, fingers spread wide. “Not touching the box, not messing with the chocolate.... but maybe, I deserve a little taste?”

You tuck the box behind you (far behind you, out of reach) and smile. Trust Mammon to have a scheme already in action, though all things considered this might be one of your favourite notions of his. 

You meet his lips, pressing warm against his mouth. Then, with a nudge, let them break apart and share your air with him. You invite him with your tongue, a flick and a curl, and let him rove into your mouth, tasting what is left of the chocolate. 

The scent of the confection is still hanging in the air, and you can hear how Mammon makes soft sounds of pleasure at either the kiss, or the chocolate, or both. 

You lean back on your heels, grinning slyly, “I _have_ been ever-so busy lately, haven't I? Your brothers certainly keep me on my toes, there isn't usually a single day without a random potion going awry, or some new drama erupting...” you reach behind you, and collect the bar of chocolate once more, breaking off another square. 

You hold it between you, eyes locked on Mammon as he stares.

“I think I deserve a little _more_ , don't you?” 

With that you gulp the whole thing into your mouth, and yelp in delight as Mammon practically leaps on you to chase down the chocolate with a kiss.


	7. Envy

“You humans get all the good stuff!”

You are with Leviathan, sitting on massive beanbags, lit by incredible jellyfish floating quietly by in their custom built aquariums.

You lift a brow. Levi misses it entirely, having already turned his attention to his latest game obsession. You don't even know which of the characters on screen he is playing as, everything jumps and spins and transforms too fast for your eyes to follow....

“Well... if Lord Diavolo's plans work out, maybe we could have a postage system set up?”

“That'd be fantastic! But wait... postal charges! I don't wanna have to pay more, just because I live in a different realm.” he sighed, deeply, “It's not fair!”

You do not respond. 

For Levi, complaining about things not being fair is similar to how other people whinge about the weather; he deems it suitable small talk. You might merrily remark about how it is raining and you forgot your umbrella, and he laments the woes of not being able to get the latest figurine from whatever series he likes best at the moment (you know full well his current obsession is 'Prince From Outer Space Sent to Earth Through Worm-Hole Accident but Also Cast Back in Time and is Now A Girl, but still the point holds).

You smile, and recline backwards on the beanbag.

“Yeah, like the Devildom doesn't have its own amazing wares!? If I'd not come here, I'd never had known the true power of hell-sauce noddles, or that you could actually produce liquor from the ectoplasm of pirate ghosts.”

“Hmmmmmrph!”

Levi scowls, and pushes buttons at a rapid pace, and several things on the screen fade away and he scowls further, his eyes almost invisible under his thick fringe.

“Would it help with a second player? I'm not as good as you, but maybe I could be cannon fodder?”

Without looking in your direction, Levi grabs a control and pushes it towards you. 

He then rattles off a bunch of controls and commands, none of which you can make sense of. 

You guide what you think and hope is your pixilated character to the centre of the screen, then start mashing buttons randomly. Sure enough, some of the darker figures descend upon your little pixel self, and rip its head off, but that allows time for a different pixel character to leap on the biggest one's back and beat its head in with an oversized sword. 

The game beeps happily, and Levi grins ear to hidden ear.

“Nice! We get to go on to the next level!”

“Do I get a big sword now too then?”

“No, you're too low level for a sword. But next level after the next, you get a pointy stick.”

“That's not fair.” you say before you can catch yourself.

Levi shrugs, but you note he has tipped his head in your direction.

Later on, and you remain just as confused by the game, but you dying over and over does not seem to be hindering Levi. It is not exactly fun however.

“This would be easier with a sword like yours....” you mutter, “or if I was even half as good at you at this....”

Levi turns, sudden, and stares at you. 

With his attention from the game, his pixel character suffers a grisly fate as four black spindly baddies gobble it up. You gesture to the screen, “The game!”

“Never mind that.” You do not manage to hide your shock that Levi hasn't already gone back to working the controller, “Say that again...”

“What, 'the game'?”

“No... before that....”

You furrow your brow as you try to remember, “Uh... I wish I had a sword like the one your character gets to have... and that I was half as good at you at the game...”

Levi is blushing, but still staring at you, intently. You see horns starts to creep out from his hair, and a tail snake out behind him. He adjusts forwards on the beanbag, but does not take his eyes off you. 

Curious, confused, you glance about the room, looking for something else to talk about. “I mean, it's no wonder you're good at games, look at your collection here! I thought I had not a small stash, but really, mine pales in comparison to yours...”

Levi stalks closer, eyes transfixed, his horns haloing his head like a crown.

“Go on...” he whispers, swaying side to side snake-like.

You finally gather what has him so excited; he normally pines after all that he does not have, but hearing that his possessions and skills are the envy of another seems to appeal to him.

You smile, and happily indulge him.

“And you know so much! All the lore, all the background characters and references... you have an astounding knowledge! I could never hope to match it, even if I studied for years! Not just games either, all the books and manga, anime and icons... you have such a better memory than me for those things!”

Leviathan is curling against you now, his skin cool to the touch, and dotted with glimmering indigo scales. His tail too, wrapped round your leg, till it would take some untangling for you to stand. If you did not know better, you'd say he was soaking up your body heat, as well as your words, like basking like a snake.

You reach out, and run your fingers over the surface of a cluster of scales, admiring their sheen. 

“These too, make me jealous. They are very beautiful, unique even, I've not seen another demon with such lovely scales... Meanwhile I'm just a boring ol' human!”

Levi shakes his head, his hair falling over his eyes, “You aren't boring! You're one of the best humans I know! Second best only to Ruri-chan!”

You don't point out that he probably ought not to count Ruri-chan, not least because she has a demon form as well as a human one, as well as the fact she is a fictional character! Still, it's pretty high praise from leviathan, and you give him a hug in thanks. You feel his cheeks heat up with a blush, and hug him all the tighter.

He suddenly seems struck by an idea, and uncoils his tail. You watch as it snakes over to a far shelf, and seems to curl round something. He brings it over, and hovers it by your hand. You open your palm, and he drops two shining purple scales into it. 

They are smaller, but unmistakably the same colour as Levi has across his shoulders and back.

“I wrestled them off Mammon after my last shedding. I normally destroy them so they cannot be used in spells against me, but he was going to sell them off to the higher bidder! They'll be safe with you though. Keep them!”

You turn one over in your hand, as you process that Levi _sheds_ , then think that you've come across stranger things.... in the fridge this morning for example. 

“This is... lovely. Thank you for trusting me.”

Levi reaches and picks one out of your hand, and playfully presses it carefully against your cheek, then adds the second across from your eye on the same side.

“There!” he announces happily, “One non-normie human!”

Then his face falls, and you wonder what has happened.

Levi hunches his shoulders, and cross his arms in a sulk. “...They look better on you than they ever did on me..... That's so unfair!!”

You cannot help yourself, and you laugh.


	8. Epilogue

You round a corner from the kitchen where you have just finished packing leftovers away after dinner, when you hear the sounds of arguing coming from one of the common rooms. 

Nothing new there, but strangely, there is no-one trying to ease the tension. Usually Asmo would be trying to distract away from the conflict (or going to get popcorn), or Lucifer would be stepping in to keep the peace. 

No, this evening, all seven brothers seemed in the middle of a heated disagreement. You approach, carefully, ready to back off to your room if there were too many demonic forms present. You learnt the hard way that even unintentionally, demonic tails can nip a bit if they whip across your skin. 

You poke your head round the doorway, and hear all words halt, and seven pairs of bright eyes turn to you. 

There are no horns or loose tails, thank Diavolo, so you take a further step in. You wonder if you are perhaps in trouble, and slowly approach. The gathered attentions of all occupants is off-putting and you find yourself unsettled.

“well that makes things easier, we can just ask directly!” Levi beams, and beacons you closer. When you don't move from your spot, Asmo sidles over, “Perfect timing! We were just talking about you. All good things, of course!” he winks, and leans into your shoulder.

“Hey-hey, just in time to back me up!” Mammon moves to your other side, and puts a hand on your shoulder.

“What,” you manage, before you find yourself swamped by demons, “is going on?”

“There was a heated debate on the nature of sin, pertaining to the human acts through words or deeds, or, conversely, sin as a manifestation of particular flavours of evil.” Satan offers, probably quoting from some book you have never even heard of, let alone read. 

“Uh....” you falter. You have absolutely no idea what the brothers are talking about. 

Belpagor moves in, “Simply, which vice to you feel most drawn to? Which is your favourite?”

“Pardon?” You are baffled, yet feel the demons hanging on your every word. You want to give them want they want, want to make them all happy, but you've been too long here in the House of Lamentation to know that there is rarely such an easy and universally accepted solution. 

Lucifer steps forwards, and smiles at you. It is unnerving. “What guilty pleasure delights you, even if you know it to be wrong...?” he lifts a brow, as if sharing a secret with you. 

_Oh!_

You break into a wide smile, “Oh, that's easy!”

Every single demon in the room leans in, intent on your next words.

“It absolutely has to be chocolate!”

There is a silence, that stretches beyond awkward. You get the feeling that your response, however honest, pleased nobody. 

“Wait,” Beel says, after too long a pause, “You have chocolate? Can I have some?”

You stiffen, and quickly excuse yourself before you have to answer. 

Then go to find a much better hiding place for your stash. Maybe Solomon has a spell or curse that could help protect it....


End file.
